Frozen Web
by LadyCordeliaStuart
Summary: In an alternate universe where Loki escaped after the events of the Avengers, Natasha Romanov struggles to adjust to a life filled with publicity, as well as trying to control old feelings for Clint Barton that have come back to the surface. But when Loki returns for his revenge, she must fight to save those she loves the most. Clint x Natasha, not Natasha x Loki.
1. Chapter 1

Natasha Romanov stood in her shower, letting the warm water wash over her aching muscles. Showers usually relaxed her, but this one wasn't working.

If she was honest with herself, she'd admit that she hadn't been relaxed in a long time—more than a month. She hadn't been able to relax at all since the event.

_The event_. She chuckled bitterly. _Can't you even think about it without hiding it under a euphemism? It was an intergalactic battle, and you kicked ass. That's it. What more is there to process?_

It was true—she _had _kicked ass. All of the Avengers had. Despite all their personal pride problems and petty arguments, they'd managed to come together and stave off the Chitauri that were pouring through a hole right above New York City. When it looked like humanity was doomed, they'd found a way to save the day—and the world.

In the wake of such heroics, the "superheroes" (hearing that title always made Natasha roll her eyes) had been plastered on every TV screen and magazine cover available. While some of the team members, like Tony, relished such attention, Natasha hated it. She had been trained as a spy and an assassin—attention wasn't exactly welcome. She would much rather hole up in her training room or firing range.

Luckily, Clint was the same way. In fact, they'd seen each other an awful lot over the past few weeks, whether it was sparring at Fury's underground gym or shooting rounds at the firing range. Being with Clint was comforting—he was the only thing that hadn't completely changed on her (well, except for his brief period under Loki's mind control).

Yet even that was getting complicated. Spending so much time with Clint had brought back familiar feelings she thought she had buried long ago. She was too professional to fall for another agent, especially one who had so recently been trying to kill her. Even though he'd decided not to at the last minute, it would be stupid to complicate matters. They'd lost control of themselves in Budapest, but she wasn't going to let it happen again. She and Clint were partners now, and she'd even call him a friend—maybe her one true friend. But they couldn't be anything more. She had to keep her mind clear—especially since Loki was still running around.

Somehow, he'd managed to slip away during the chaos after Tony sent the missile through the portal. It didn't really surprise her—he was a slippery bastard. Now he was loose somewhere in the galaxy, and he was such a sore loser, she knew he'd try something again when he was done nursing his wounds. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion he might even try to pay her a visit; he'd been pretty pissed when she tricked him at his own tricks up in the heliocarrier.

She had looked tough behind the glass of his cage, but she had been shaking inside. It was one thing to interrogate anarchists or terrorists. It was another thing to exchange barbs with a venomous demi-god. At first, she was unnerved by his sheer power; she knew that if he was anything like his brother Thor, he could snap her like a twig. He looked unassuming because he was so slight and withdrawn, but she had seen him pick up men with one hand and hurl them across the room.

Yet as she had talked with him, she'd gotten bolder. He was a demi-god, sure, but he was also a whining, spoiled second child who was obsessed with one-upping his brother. When she'd realized his weaknesses, unraveling him had been a piece of cake. And he could snarl at her as much as she wanted; she got what she came for.

No, she wasn't going to think about Loki at all. The team would deal with him if he ever showed his miserable (yet maddening attractive) face again. Right now, she was going to towel off and call Clint to see if he wanted to take a run through his obstacle course. He didn't have a landline (he was almost as paranoid as she was), but she knew his cell phone. And his cabin was wonderfully secluded—there wouldn't be paparazzi dogging her every step out there.

She wrapped her towel around her torso and picked up the phone. She knew Clint's number by heart.

"Clint? Care for an evening work out?"


	2. Chapter 2

Loki sat a café in Brooklyn, watching the crowd of pitiful humans stream by him. None of them recognized him, since he had transformed himself to look like just another bland face in the crowd. If he'd walked in with his true visage, they would surely all run screaming from the building. While he relished their fear, he knew the attention would inevitably attract those damned Avengers, and he wasn't ready—yet—to wage another war against them.

But he would. He'd wage a war against every one of those so-called "superheroes," but this time, the plan would be different. Even he had to admit it had been a mistake to try to take out all of them at once. They were surprisingly effective as a team, despite all their squabbling. No, this time, he would pick them off one by one. It would be easy in this disguise; they would never see him coming.

And when he came—oh, what vengeance he would wreak against those cursed mortals who had thwarted his magnificent plan and snatched away the glory that was rightfully his. He would make them all suffer in painfully individual ways, in the ways that would hurt the most. He savored his fantasies of all the different ways they would suffer, writhing in agony and begging for mercy until he crushed them under his boot.

And there was one Avenger in particular he imagined: Natasha Romanov.

She infuriated him the most, because she had used her wiles to manipulate him into revealing his intentions. In fact, if she hadn't tricked him, he probably would have been able to unleash the monster on his own timing and successfully pull off that part of his master plan. And that could have changed the whole course of the entire war. It was _her _fault he hadn't succeeded in taking control of earth. She had dared trick the god of trickery—and he hated her for it.

He could still remember her smug smile as she had walked away in the heliocarrier, and that mocking goodbye: "Thank you for your cooperation."

He would wipe that smile off her face. He would torture her in every possible way, leaving her humiliated and broken—if he deigned to let her live at all. Oh yes, for all her tough posturing, he knew her frailties—Barton had been most forthcoming about the weaknesses of the so-called "Black Widow." She was just as human as the rest of her teammates, and she had just as many weak spots. And he was going to hit her in every single one.

There was only one problem: he didn't know where she was.

He had kept an eye out for her after the events in New York, expecting her to go back to her regular life of being Fury's lackey. But after a few team appearances, she had simply disappeared. He knew she hated attention and had retreated into comfortable hiding; like him, she was a creature of the dark.

He was content to let her hide for a while, lulling her into a sense of security and complacency. He knew she would always been on guard—it was how she was wired—but he hoped that if he didn't come after any of the Avengers for some time, they would all start to relax.

Now it was time to make his grand reappearance. Maybe he didn't know where Natasha Romanov was, but he knew who would: Clint Barton. And while Barton was almost as reclusive as Natasha, Loki had an advantage there: he had combed through Barton's memories, and he knew all about the hawk's "secret" cabin in the woods outside of New York City.

Loki stood and stretched his legs. It was time to call on Clint Barton.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint Barton steadied his bow, finding the target in his sight. He exhaled and let the arrow fly. It shot out of his crossbow and sank into the target two hundred feet away. From where he was standing, it looked like a perfect bull's eye. But as he approached it, he noticed it was just half an inch lower than the target's actual center.

"Dammit," he muttered as he yanked the arrow out of the foam target. "Clint, you're not focusing."

It was true. He _wasn't _focusing, at least not on the target. He was focusing on a certain red-headed assassin, the same assassin he'd been focusing on for several weeks now.

"Don't be an idiot," he ordered himself as he gathered his arrows and started walking back towards his cabin—God, it was great having his own personal archery range. "Remember what happened in Budapest?"

He still winced at the memory. Oh, it had started promisingly enough. He'd been sent to protect a certain Middle Eastern warlord—not because the guy was so great, but because he was just a tad better than the guy who was trying to take power away from him. The U.S. had been supplying this certain warlord with arms and artillery for years in the hopes that he'd keep some semblance of control instead of letting the country crumble into a bloody revolution—which might cut off some of America's precious oil supplies. The guy was coming to Budapest for another arms deal, and there'd been rumors of an assassination attempt. There had even been rumors that a certain Russian assassin was the one who'd try to off him.

It hadn't been the first time Barton had run into Natasha Romanov. Usually, they were on different jobs and only traded barbed comments if they spoke at all. Once in a while, they'd been up against each other, and then they'd traded a lot more than words. She was surprisingly skillful, and he'd learned long ago not to underestimate her. She was cold, clever, seductive, and disarmingly beautiful-a beauty that hid her deadly abilities.

She had managed to sneak into the warlord's gigantic mansion on the edge of Budapest, which had been emptied of everyone except the warlord's security detachment and Clint. They were all waiting for the arms deal the next day. Natasha easily plowed through the armed guards, leaving a bloody trail of broken limbs and bullet-riddled corpses in her wake. But when she'd pushed through the doors to the master bedroom, she hadn't found the warlord. He'd be stashed in another location. Instead, she'd found Clint.

"Mr. Barton," she said, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "I knew I'd run into you eventually."

"Ms. Romanov," Clint replied over an arrow pointed straight at her heart. "I wish we could meet under more pleasant circumstances. But as it is, I have orders to bring you in."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Natasha answered, and before Clint knew it, she had executed a back flip kick that knocked his bow from his hands. Clint recovered quickly, quickly enough to dodge the knife in Natasha's hand that was slicing at his throat. He grabbed her wrist and flung her into the wall, but she bounced off with hardly a delay and was already kicking his legs out from under him. It was a familiar dance they'd done before. If they needed to, they'd kill each other, but until now one had always subdued the other with non-lethal force: she'd knocked him out, he'd handcuffed her to a pipe… There was some unspoken understanding between them, a mutual respect that held them in check. They enjoyed each other, even if they were on opposite sides. Killing each other would ruin the fun.

Even as they were used to each other's blows, something was off this time. And when Clint had managed to slam Natasha up against a desk, pinning her arms to her sides, she reacted in quite a different way than he expected: she leaned forward and kissed him.

At first, he stiffened, expecting a trick. But then Natasha looped a leg around his waist and pulled him into her even closer.

"Natasha," he said against her lips, "this is fighting dirty."

"Shut up and kiss me," she replied.

So he did. He kissed her hard, delighting in her tangy taste and the way her tongue flicked into his mouth so skillfully. He was a hardened SHIELD agent, but his knees felt as weak as a stupid school boy. He loosed his grip on Natasha's arms, letting his hands wind around her waist and pull her up into his arms. She wound her fingers into his hair, moaning against him as he lifted her up and carried her over to the king sized bed in the middle of the floor.

He lowered her carefully, almost reverently, suddenly painfully unsure of himself. She pulled at him impatiently, and he could feel her heat and softness against him.

"Natasha, what are we doing?" he asked. "This is crazy."

"We can go back to killing each other tomorrow," she said. "I think we've been putting this off too long."

Somehow, they'd managed to shake off all their weapons and armor, littering the floor with knives and guns and arrows. God, she'd looked so beautiful lying there naked on the satin sheets, all her attention on him. They had made love several times, each time better than the last, and he had marveled at how perfectly they'd fit together.

When he woke up in the morning, she was gone. He hadn't really expected it any other way. They'd run into each other again that afternoon, once again on opposite sides as they fought over the life of one oil-rich warlord. It almost seemed like a dream instead of a real memory.

Then special mercenary forces showed up, courtesy of that warlord's biggest enemy, and everything had gone to shit.

Clint still marveled that he even got out of that one will all his skin. It had been a full scale civil war, compacted into one Romanian villa, with four sides fighting four battles. Suddenly, he found himself fighting alongside Natasha instead of against her as they both struggled to just get out of there alive, mission be damned. Let the Middle Easterners settle their own disputes. The Americans had packed up and high-tailed it out of there, though their weapons hadn't made it out with them. And the last thing Clint wanted was to be shot up by guns from his own country. He'd hitched a chopper and taken off for Germany. When Natasha jumped into the passenger seat next to him, he hadn't protested. He only asked her where she wanted to be dropped off. He had never asked her about the night before; they both knew it was only going to be a one-time thing.

And yet…

He had never been able to look at her the same way again. He'd bucked SHIELD's orders to kill her when he had the chance, bringing her back and offering her a spot working for Fury. And slowly but surely, they'd carved out a friendship. They had never again acted on that underlying passion they both felt, which made Clint wonder if maybe he was wrong. Maybe she didn't feel anything for him except friendship. Maybe she thought Budapest had been a mistake.

He knew that would be the smart thing to do. The last thing he needed was to let something distract him from his job. It was already happening, as his marksmanship showed; he would _never _have missed that shot if he'd been concentrating. But it was so hard to not think about all the great times they'd had together in the last few weeks, whether it was sparring or shooting or just going for a run. Natasha understood him, and he understood her. It was comforting to find someone who could know him so well, who could know what he was thinking when he didn't say anything at all. She soothed him.

But there was no way he'd jeopardize their relatively new friendship. He wouldn't push her; he knew how skittish she could be about relationships. She'd have to explicitly show interest, or else he would just force himself to be content with the way things were.

Still, he couldn't help be a little excited when he got a phone call that afternoon from her. "Clint? Care for an evening work out?"

Of course he said yes. And then he spent the next twenty minutes furiously cleaning his cabin. It wasn't a bid task-it wasn't a big place. But he didn't want to look like a slob when Natasha showed up.

He had just finished wiping off the kitchen counters (_Why would she even notice that?_) when there was a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock-she was earlier than he expected. She must have blown off some speed limits signs-not that he minded an early appearance.

He trotted over to the door and swung it open, calling, "You're earlier than I-"

But when the door opened, it wasn't Natasha standing there.


	4. Chapter 4

NOTE: If you read Chapter 3 before Sept. 22, I added a few sentences because it didn't end where I needed it to. Also, this chapter contains some pretty intense violence. Just a warning!

...

Clint felt his jaw drop when he saw Loki standing in the doorway, a wicked grin on his face.

"Hello, Mr. Barton," Loki said, as casually as if he were meeting an old business partner. "I'm afraid I need your services once again."

Clint's usually clinically cool mind struggled to control itself, to process just what was happening in front of him. It only took him a second to recover, and his arm was already instinctively reaching for the door to slam it before he completely accepted this unexpected reality. It was a useless gesture; Loki easily shoved the door open, knocking Clint backwards.

"Do we really have to go into this tiresome charade?" Loki asked, voice dripping mockery. "We both know how it will end. It will be a lot less painful if you just give me what I want."

"The hell I will," Clint growled, already formulating a plan. What he really wanted was his bow and arrows, but they were stored downstairs in his basement, and the stairs were across the room. He knew better than to try to go toe-to-toe with Loki. The god of mischief wasn't as physically intimidating as his golden foster brother, but he was certainly no pushover. "What _do _you want?"

"I simply wish to know the whereabouts of Agent Romanov," Loki replied innocently. "We have some… unfinished business."

"You're not going to get anywhere near her," Clint ground out. "If you know what's good for you, you'll slink back into whatever hole you crept out of."

Loki chuckled darkly. "Strong words, but I doubt you can validate them. Let's test your mettle, Midgardian."

With that, he launched himself at Clint. Clint managed to duck under Loki's reaching arms, saved by his sharp reflexes, but barely. He vaulted over his couch and sprinted for the basement door. He had no false pretenses about how this would end if left to run its natural course; he was a skilled fighter, but Loki was stronger, faster and probably, if he was honest, smarter. His only real hope was getting to the basement and to his arrows—and his cell phone, still tucked into his backpack. If he could call Steve or Tony, the Avengers would be at his place in a heartbeat.

He'd managed to open the basement door when Loki grabbed his arm and flung him across the room. He smashed into his kitchen counter but was on his feet almost instantly, reaching for the knife in his belt. He hurled it at Loki's head, a shot that would have skewered the demi god's eye if it had landed. But Loki caught it with maddening ease and threw it back at Clint's shoulder. Clint jerked to the side to avoid the blade, but before he could straight up, Loki was on top of him, slamming him across the jaw with a blow that felt like a sledgehammer. Clint's head snapped to one side, and he had no time to recover before Loki hit him again with a vicious uppercut that threatened to knock him out.

Clint tried to push Loki off him but the demi god was too solid to budge. So instead he slammed a knee into Loki's side. Loki stumbled backwards with a grunt of pain, and without really thinking about what he was doing, Clint tackled him. They landed in a heap and rolled across the floor, each trying to land blows but restrained by their close proximity. Finally, Clint landed on top, grabbing Loki's shirt and smashing a fist across his jaw. He pulled back for another blow but Loki kicked up with his leg and launched Clint over his shoulders—and through the basement doorway.

Clint tumbled down the wooden steps, landing with a sickening crunch onto the concrete floor of the basement. His right leg suddenly felt ice cold, and a wave of nausea washed over him. As Loki started descending the stairs, Clint hurriedly tried to stand, only for a bolt of pain to shoot through his leg. He crumbled back onto the ground, only then noticing the white bone sticking out under his knee and the blood seeping through his pants.

Loki reached the bottom of the stairs and took in Clint's condition with relish. "It seems the hawk has a broken wing."

Clint tried to crawl away backwards, but Loki easily closed the distance between them.

"Are you ready to cooperate?" he asked.

Clint could feel he was starting to go into shock, but he still managed, "Get bent, you son of a—"

Loki kicked him then, right against his leg's compound fracture, and Clint barely controlled a scream as he was hit by an agony so excruciating he thought he'd pass out. He instinctively rolled up into himself, desperate to shield his leg, but Loki kicked him again in the face. He felt blood running down his chin, and his vision started to blur.

"Pathetic dog," Loki snarled. "Your stubborn heroics will do nothing but get you killed. _Tell me where she is!"_

It was then that his cell phone rang.

Both men heard it at the same time. Loki jerked around to scan for the source, digging Clint's phone out of his backpack. The screen displayed the incoming caller in big black letters: Natasha Romanov.

"How helpful," Loki said with a terrible smile. He kept his eyes on Clint as he answered the phone in Clint's voice. "Hello? Hey, Natasha, what's up?"

Clint was swimming in and out of consciousness, but he tried anyway to shout out a warning. He managed a feeble, "Natasha—" but he knew it was futile even before Loki kicked him in the stomach, so hard his breath was knocked out of him. One last alert part of his mind registered that at least one of his ribs had cracked, but he was having trouble focusing at this point as his mind swam in and out of hazy consciousness.

"It doesn't matter when you show up," Loki said into the phone. "I'm not going anywhere. Okay, see you in a bit."

He ended the call and hurled the phone into the floor, where it shattered.

"It seems Agent Romanov is coming to me," he told Clint with a dark smile. "This time, the spider will get caught in someone else's web."

The words hardly registered to Clint, who was fading fast into unconsciousness.

"As for you, Agent Barton," Loki continued, "you still may have a use, so I won't kill you—yet. I think I'll wait to do it until Agent Romanov can watch."

Clint was vaguely aware that Loki was grabbing a rope to tie him up, but everything felt blurry and slow. The last thing he heard before completely passing out was the demi god's voice drifting around him in the darkness: "Thank you for your cooperation."


	5. Chapter 5

After Natasha called Clint about coming over, she threw on some workout clothes and grabbed a water bottle to stuff into her workout bag. If they were going to work out, it was going to be intense, probably a 5-mile run around his woods or some kickboxing in his basement. This was no time for heels or lipstick.

She had made it halfway to his cabin when she realized she'd forgotten her cell phone. She tried to keep it with her at all times in case Fury called (though he'd surely find another way to get to her if he really needed—he was maddeningly good at that). Dutifully, she turned around and went home to retrieve it, muttering curses under her breath. What would have taken twenty minutes would now be forty.

She called Clint when she got home to let him know she'd be late. She knew he wouldn't care, but she'd been trained to give regular reports. Like she predicted, Clint didn't mind—what else did he have to rush off to? Nothing. He was trying to withdraw from the world as much as she was.

She wound through the woods surrounding Clint's cabin—_He sure lives in the middle of nowhere_, she thought to herself—and finally pulled up in front of his door. His favorite SUV was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean anything; he kept it hidden in the shed next to his cabin. He didn't like people to know when he was home. Natasha didn't blame him.

She hopped up the front steps and knocked on his door. They were far too familiar to stand on social cues, but the last time she'd walked into his place without warning she'd almost gotten an arrow in her eye. Clint could be pretty paranoid. Again, Natasha didn't blame him.

The door opened, and Clint grinned down at her, the same playful grin that would have made her blush if she wasn't so in control all the time.

"About time you got here," he said. "I was beginning to think you chickened out."

Natasha snorted. "You're not getting out of it that easy."

Clint pulled back so she could come inside. "What were you thinking?"

Natasha dropped her workout bag on the couch. "What about kickboxing? I could really use a stress reliever right now."

She started towards the basement, but he grabbed her arm. "Sorry, not kickboxing," he said. "The basement's a mess. I'm working on a project. We couldn't even get to the mat. But we could use the mat upstairs. It doesn't have the punching bag, but we could spar."

"Sure, that'll work," she agreed, heading up the stairs. Clint followed. "I could use a warmup anyway."

His upstairs was mostly a loft, with a modest workout ring in the main area and his bedroom tucked into the back. Natasha ducked under the ropes, stretching her legs against one of the poles before squaring off against Clint. They were used to fighting, and they never seriously hurt each other.

Natasha made the first move, lashing out with a quick jab at Clint's shoulder. He jerked away, coming back with a swing of his own. She thought she knew his fighting style, but something was off today; he was quicker than usual, and more aggressive. Usually speed and agility was her arena, and he hung back until he found the perfect shot. So she wasn't expecting it when he launched himself at her and knocked her onto her back. She recovered quickly, twisting her legs around his and twisting to the side so that she ended up on top. She was about to get him into a chokehold when he grabbed her arm and slammed her onto the mat—hard.

A bright flash of pain shot up her arm, but she ignored it, breaking his grip on her arm and springing to her feet. She lashed out with a quick jab, but the pain hit again, and she paused with a grimace. Clint noticed.

"What's up?" he asked, concern filling his eyes. "I didn't get you too bad, did I?"

Natasha rubbed her shoulder, wincing. "It's no big deal; it's been sore for a few days. I think I just fell on it wrong."

"Well, it makes no sense to fight on a strained shoulder," Clint replied. "Let me grab you an ice pack from the fridge. I bet it'll feel better in a few minutes."

Clint led her downstairs, and she sat down on the couch while he grabbed the pack from the refrigerator. He came back with a bag of frozen peas ("the best thing I could find," he said apologetically) and sat down next to her. She held the bag against her shoulder for around ten minutes, already feeling better, but Clint insisted on looking her over before they went back upstairs.

"Turn around," he ordered.

"Since when did you become so nurturing?" she asked teasingly.

"I just don't want to lose my favorite sparring partner," he replied. "Now turn around." Natasha turned around dutifully, and she felt Clint reposition closer behind her on the couch. He started probing her shoulder with surprisingly gentle fingers. "How does that feel?"

"Good," she admitted.

He chuckled, continuing his examination. "You're so tense, Natasha."

"I guess I've had a lot on my mind."

"I think we all have," he replied. "But that's what the team's for—to deal with this together. You don't have to be strong all the time, you know."

"Come on, Clint, that's how we function, the both of us," Natasha answered. "Relying on other people is never a good idea."

"Not even if you're relying on me?"

Clint's fingers had branched off to the nape of her neck, stroking and massaging. Natasha could feel the tension sliding off her shoulders like water, and it was wonderfully soothing. In fact, she felt truly relaxed for the first time in weeks. His hands slid lower, fluttering down her spine. Somehow, he seemed to know exactly where the worst knots were. His fingers pressed and pulled, brushing the bottoms of her breasts in a way that made an entirely new tension—one of sweet anticipation—well up in the pit of Natasha's stomach. She couldn't help but sigh with contentment.

Clint heard, and his fingers stilled. He leaned closer, the stubble of his chin brushing against her cheek. "Natasha," he said gently, tugging on her shoulders. "You can rely on me."

She turned around slowly, not trusting herself to speak. She didn't want to look into Clint's eyes, because she feared what she'd find there—and what it would stir up in her own heart. But he cupped her chin and lifted it tenderly. Neither of them said anything as he leaned forward and claimed her lips with his own.

At first, she was hesitant to respond, fearful of letting go of her always firm control. But Clint was persistent, and slowly she opened up to him. He tasted different than she remembered; in Budapest, he'd tasted of smoke and brandy, but now he tasted more like cool mint. Natasha didn't mind; it was a pleasant flavor. She let the kiss grow deeper, drinking him in as she wrapped her arms around his neck and wound her legs around his hips. Clint ran his hands up her legs and pulled her tighter against him, standing up and bringing her with him. He carried her across the room and into the first-floor bedroom. Natasha wondered briefly why he didn't take them to his own room, but then she realized how difficult it would be to climb the stairs in their current position.

He pushed the door open with a shoulder and walked to the bed, lowering her onto the mattress. He crawled on top of her, continuing to pepper her face and neck with kisses.

"Oh, Clint," she breathed, slipping her hands under his shirt and eagerly exploring his hard body. She pulled him closer impatiently, delighting at the heat that spread through the two of them, and her breathing quickened. It was hard to think straight—she had wanted this for so long, but there were so many reasons why she should put a stop to it right now. "What are we doing?"

"Wasn't I the one protesting last time?" Clint asked playfully, his lips tickling her collarbone. She felt cool fingers along her waist, slipping under her shirt and sliding upwards. "We've been strong long enough. We deserve to find some happiness… we deserve to find love."

Natasha attempted to form a rational reply, but it was difficult when Clint was nibbling her ear. When did he become so good with his tongue? He was sending shivers down her spine.

She tried one last time to regain some control. "Love? Aren't we a little old for that?"

But Clint shook his head. "Maybe love isn't just for children, Natasha."

His words were exactly what she needed to hear, and she pulled him closer, letting him kiss her throat and work his way to her lips, his tongue meeting hers. Yet in the back of her mind, something troubled her, some irritating déjà vu she couldn't quite recall.

_Maybe love isn't just for children._

Where had she heard that before? It was so hard to think. She just wanted to lose herself in Clint's embrace and just for once, stop worrying about duty and reason and the outside world.

_Maybe love isn't just for children…_

Clint started tugging at her spandex leggings, breath quickening with impatient desire.

_"__Is this love, Agent Romanov?"_

_"__Love is for children…"_

Natasha knew.


	6. Chapter 6

The realization hit Natasha like a freight train: this wasn't Clint kissing the nape of her neck and slipping his fingers into her spandex. And if it wasn't Clint, there could be only one other person able to impersonate him.

Loki.

Natasha's mind felt like it went into a tail spin dive straight down, but impressively, she managed to control her reaction. She was a professional, after all. She knew this was a very bad situation. The last time she'd been alone with Loki, she had majorly ticked him off. And she was too much of a realist to ever imagine she could overpower the demi-god who was currently on top of her. She could hardly swing a fist in her current position. Her mind ticked through possible reactions and outcomes, each of them unpleasant. Finally, she decided there was only one way to play this.

"Oh, Clint," she moaned huskily, pulling Loki closer. She let herself started to gyrate against him, pleased to hear how his breathing started to speed up. He might be a demi-god, but he was a _male _demi-god, and there wasn't a man alive Natasha couldn't seduce. Inwardly, she shuddered at the close contact with Loki, but she forced herself to look at this as just another assignment.

She kissed him again, nipping at his lip while she ran a hand through his hair. With her other hand, she stopped his progress at her waistline by lacing her fingers through his.

"You're moving awfully fast, handsome," she teased, tightening her legs around Loki's hips. "Half the fun is getting there."

"I just know what I want," Loki-Clint purred against her ear, sliding a hand up under her shirt and towards her breasts.

"So do I," Natasha replied, smoothly yanking his arm out from under him and flipping him onto his back so that she was straddling him. "And I want it on top."

She was going to reach out and snag the lamp next to the bed to clobber him, but he simultaneously sat up under her and grabbed onto her hips, jerking her back onto his lap. She felt his hardness under her and tried not to wince. This new position left him about eye-level with her collarbone.

"Mmm, I like this new view," he grinned. "I'd like it better without the shirt, though. Let's see if we can fix that."

One hand started to work at her shirt while the other stayed firmly gripping her hip. He was holding her too tightly for her to lunge for something, and she couldn't stretch her arms out enough to hit him. So she did the only thing she could think of.

She head-butted him.

Loki's head snapped back with a sharp _crack_, and in his surprise, the Clint illusion fizzled and disappeared. Natasha barely noticed because she was already leaping off of him and whirling for the door. She didn't really have a plan at this point except to get as much distance between her and Loki as she could.

She flew through the bedroom doorway and dashed towards the couch, where her gym bag—and more importantly, her keys—still was. But before she could reach it, Loki had grabbed her by the hair and flung her into the dining room table. She flipped over the top and landed behind it, which, she admitted, was actually kind of nice since it offered a shield from the demi-god's anger. And he _was _angry.

"So, you saw through my little trick, Agent Romanov," he said, sauntering towards her casually.

"It wasn't hard," Natasha replied, even as she looked around for a possible weapon. "You're not nearly as clever as you think you are."

"Oh, I don't know," Loki answered with a smug smile. "I certainly got what I wanted from Agent Barton."

The words tumbled out before Natasha could stop them: "Where is he?"

Loki's grin stretched wider. "Ah, so there _is _love in the whore's heart."

Natasha felt anger welling up in her heart, and, worse than that, fear—not for herself (she was pretty good at getting out of bad situations), but for Clint. She couldn't just leave him at Loki's mercy.

She had to get her gym bag. If she could grab her phone, she could call for help. But Loki was standing squarely in front of the couch. She'd have to force him into making a mistake, into lunging at her so that she could slide under the table and sprint for her bag. He was quick, but she was pretty sure she could be quicker, at least quick enough to grab her phone and dive into her car. She knew the car wouldn't keep her safe forever, but it would buy her time to call for help. Besides, her car was filled with an arsenal of weapons—surely there was something that would come in handy against a pissed off demi-god.

"I don't know what your problem is, Loki," she said, filling her voice with as much scorn as she could, "but we beat you once, resoundingly. Do you really want to be humiliated again?"

Loki's grin suddenly disappeared, replaced by cold fury. Obviously, she'd hit a nerve.

"That was only the first round," he hissed. "We have unfinished business, Russian. I may not control your precious hawk anymore, but he was kind enough to share a great many of your little secrets."

He suddenly shoved the table forward, pinning Natasha between it and the wall.

"I know what happened during all those years in the Red Room," he continued inexorably. "I know how many times you've been broken and cobbled together again. I know how your mind's been wiped and the shell's been refilled with your handlers' programming. I know how all of their experiments left your womb unable to hold life. I know about all your demons, little spider, and I will still kill you slowly, intimately, and in every way you fear."


	7. Chapter 7

Natasha looked around for any weapon within reach, but there was nothing. She was trapped against a wall with only two feet of wood separating her from a murderous demi-god. On the bright side, though, he couldn't reach her from his position. He would have to shift to reach her, and that's when she would have to make her move. If she could taunt him into lunging blindly, she might have a chance to twist around him.

"You promised that before, and you failed," she replied, letting a mocking smile play on her lips. "Just like you failed with your glorious invasion. Face it, Loki, you'll always be a failure."

"Miserable quim," Loki snarled, lunging at her around the table.

But Natasha was ready. As soon as Loki released the pressure against the table, she used all her strength to flip it up into him. It crashed into his side and he stumbled backwards, and Natasha took the opportunity to dart past him and run for the couch.

She scooped up the bag and turned to run for the back door in the kitchen, but before she could, Loki tackled her. It was like being T-boned by a truck. Natasha smashed into the ground and the bag went flying out of her hands, landing on the stairs.

Loki grabbed her shoulder, trying to flip her onto her back, but she swung an elbow backwards and smacked him across the face. He let go with a muttered curse, and she was able to twist out from underneath him, springing towards the stairs—and her bag. Loki caught at her ankle, pulling her leg out from underneath her, but she kicked his hand away and scrambled back up, grabbing the bag and racing up the steps.

A part of her brain warned that there were no exits upstairs, but there was really nothing else to do at this point but keep running. She could hear Loki pounding after her, and she knew he was gaining. The thought would have scared her, but she was too focused on her goal to think about what was chasing after her. She skirted around Clint's sparring mat and burst into his bedroom, and that's when she spied the balcony door.

She started towards it, figuring she would shimmy down the support beams, but Loki caught her by the shoulder and flung her onto Clint's bed. Before she could jump up, he was on top of her. He swung a leg over her hips, straddling her and effectively trapping her under him. She tried to swing out a fist but he caught both wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head on the bed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't jerk out of his grip—it was like steel.

"Am I still a failure, spider?" Loki gloated down at her. "It appears I'm the victor now, and I think it's high time I enjoy some of my spoils."

He leaned down and crushed his mouth against hers. Natasha squirmed underneath him, hating his metallic taste and the heat of so much of his body pressed down against so much of hers. With his free hand, he dug his thumb into her cheek hard enough that she opened her mouth to alleviate the pressure—giving him the chance to force his tongue inside.

Natasha bucked under him, wrenching her mouth out from under his. She tried to kick him, but her leg was still trapped under his weight.

"How I enjoy your spirit," Loki chuckled, sliding his hand up her side. Cold fingers wrapped around her shirt front as he leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear, "But I'll enjoy breaking it even more."

He pulled suddenly, tearing her shirt down the front and revealing her blue and black sports bra.

"Mmm, you certainly are tantalizing," he leered down at her. "I can see why Agent Barton was so smitten. Shall I take you like he did in Budapest? By the time I'm through, you'll forget all about him."

"Barton's twice the man you'll ever be," Natasha snapped.

Loki let out a harsh laugh. "Isn't it hard to compare before I've had my turn? Before I'm done, you'll be screaming my name. Now be a good girl and let me taste that sweet mouth again."

He kissed her again, his weight so hard against her she felt like she was suffocating. She tried to jerk away, but he was too strong.

Part of her wanted to just let him have his way and be done with it. It wasn't the first time she'd been through something like this, and she had gotten good at turning off her mind to the horror of the situation. If he thought he'd won, he would eventually let his guard down, and she'd be able to take advantage of it. But another part of her recoiled from that advice. She didn't want to just lay there and give Loki what he wanted, like he owned her.

So, despite her better judgment, she bit him.

Loki jerked back, blood trickling from his lip. "Insolent slut," he hissed, pulling back an arm and striking her across the face. She rocked to one side, ears ringing. Before she could recover, he had twisted her onto her stomach, so that she had to brace against the bed to hold herself up. He grabbed one of her arms and wrenched it up behind her back, kicking her legs apart at the same time. "I should have realized a whore like you would want it rougher," he growled, grinding against her. "Let me oblige you."

Natasha felt like her shoulder was going to be wrenched out of its socket, but she bit her lip to hold in the cry of pain threatening to escape. "Do you really think this has never happened to me before?" she grated out, trying to keep her voice steady and casual. "There's nothing you can do that hasn't already been done. You're just wasting your time."

"And yet I hear fear in your voice," Loki replied maliciously, his cheek against hers and his breath hot on her throat. He shoved a hand between her legs roughly. "But enough talk, spider. There's still so much I want to learn about you. I will tear you apart from the inside out."


	8. Chapter 8

Natasha tried to jerk her arm free but there was no way to break Loki's grasp. Her shoulder was throbbing from the pressure against it, and she couldn't shift her legs for a kick. She had to admit, this looked bad.

"What, no fiery response?" Loki taunted, voice strained with lust. "I must admit, I expected more of a challenge. Perhaps I overestimated the great Black Widow. Or maybe you secretly want this."

He pushed up against her harder, fingers fumbling at her leggings. Natasha's free arm shook with the effort of holding up both her weight and Loki's. She fought back her panic, trying to keep her mind clear and clinically look at her options. And that's when she realized: _her free arm was holding up her and Loki._

So she let it crumble onto the bed. She and Loki both spilled forward, and since his free hand was between her legs, he couldn't catch himself. In his surprise he loosened his grip on her other arm—not much, but enough for her to rip it free and slam an elbow into his side. He jerked over and she hit him again in the face, which made him take a stumbling step backwards. With his weight against her gone, she was able to push off against the bed, twist around and deliver a slam-dunk roundhouse kick to his head—knocking him over onto his back. He wore an expression of profound puzzlement, as if he couldn't quite follow everything that had just happened.

Natasha didn't stick around for him to recover. She grabbed her gym bag and flew out of the bedroom, running for the stairs. She could hear him rolling to his feet behind her, along with several shouted Norse curses that probably would have been blood curdling if she'd understood them.

She figured the best thing to do would be to get outside and hunker down until the other Avengers showed up. She knew there was no way she'd leave Clint, but she also knew it would be suicidal to stay around and duke it out with Loki—especially after that little beat down she'd delivered upstairs. She'd been lucky, but the demi-god was a foot taller, a hundred pounds heavier and mad as heck.

She had planned to run for her car but chose instead to run out the kitchen door. Her car would be no protection from Loki, who could just rip off the door. Besides, he probably guessed she'd run for it, so she wouldn't have much time. Instead, she darted for Clint's shed, a sagging wooden structure that used to be a granary. Clint's SUV was parked inside, and she briefly tried to open it to see if he had any weapons stashed inside, but it was locked. Of course.

So instead she squeezed past it and towards the back of the building—towards the rope ladder Clint left hanging along the wall. Taking the rungs two at a time, she climbed to the second story, which wasn't really a story at all but just a dusty loft still covered in leftover hay and full of old crates and feed bags. She'd been up there before and knew what areas were safe and what areas couldn't support her weight.

She pulled the ladder up after her and picked her way across the floor, finally curling up behind a pile of crates and fishing her phone out of her purse. It was only then that she saw the blinking "LOW BATTERY" warning flash up at her. It had probably been low for a while now; she couldn't remember the last time she'd charged it. She didn't have time to worry about that now—she just punched in Tony's number.

After three rings, his voice came on with all its usual swagger: "Hi, this is Tony Stark—genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. I'm not available right now, which means I'm either saving kittens or making out with my incredibly hot girlfriend. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you whenever it's convenient for me."

Natasha left him a quick message and hurriedly dialed Steve's number. It had taken the super soldier a while to figure out cell phones, but once he did, he was hooked. He almost always had his on him.

Sure enough, he picked up. "Hey, Natasha! What's up?"

"Steve, Loki's back," Natasha told him. She talked over his outraged response. "Shut up and listen. He's got Clint and me holed up at Clint's cabin. You need to get the team here as soon as possible."

"I'm on my way!" Steve replied fervently. "Where is it?"

Natasha was halfway through her somewhat complex directions (Clint did like his obscurity) when she realized she was talking into nothing. Her phone had died. Frantically, she tried to turn it back on, but it would only light up and shut right back down. She fought the urge to hurl it into the wall. Steve didn't know how to get to Clint's cabin, but surely he'd be able to find someone who did—if no one else, there was Fury. Natasha only hoped he could get those directions fast.

Then she heard him.

She froze as years of training kicked in and her senses picked up the intruder under her feet. There was only the faintest suggestion she wasn't alone—a creak here, a scuffle there. But she heard it, and it was enough for her to know that Loki had crept inside.


	9. Chapter 9

Natasha's heart hammered in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. He didn't know the building, and he certainly didn't know about the second story. It looked for all the world like a low roof. Thank heavens she'd pulled up the rope ladder. It wasn't impossible to scramble up to the second story without a rope, but it was pretty difficult—and if Loki tried it, she'd have time to dash out another way. There were plenty of ways down, even if she had to go through the floor.

She could hear Loki's light steps as he explored the shed (not that there was much to explore). She caught herself holding her breath and mentally chastised herself; there was no way he could hear _that _well, even if he was ungodly devious.

But apparently he couldn't contain his need to taunt her any longer, because after several tense seconds, she heard his rich chuckle fill the shed.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called out, his filled with amusement. "You can't initiate such intense foreplay and then cut me off. I'm dying to finish what we started upstairs."

Natasha heard him walking closer to where the rope ladder had hung. She could even see him a little through the cracked floor boards. He wasn't in a hurry; he was enjoying his stroll.

"Maybe you're not even in here," he continued. "But I doubt you've gone far either way. I know you wouldn't leave your precious Agent Barton."

Natasha's stomach twisted at the mention of Clint.

"He's still alive, you know," Loki said casually. "At least, he was when I left him. And if I can't find you now, maybe I'll just entertain myself with him until you reappear. It would be awfully difficult for him to draw a bow without any fingers."

Natasha fought the urge to leap to her feet and confront Loki. She knew it was exactly what he wanted—for her to think with her heart instead of her head and end up making a stupid mistake. She had to wait until he left. No matter what he said, she couldn't react.

Loki paused underneath her, as if waiting for an answer. When he didn't hear anything, he just shrugged.

"Maybe your sense of self-preservation is stronger than your loyalty," he said. "Let's find out, shall we? But don't take too long to decide, little spider—I don't think Agent Barton will last very long once I get started on him."

Giving the room one last glance, he turned and left, leaving Natasha alone with her chaotic thoughts. She weighed her options, but none of them looked good. She'd gotten through to Steve, so eventually her team would find her. But what if it wasn't fast enough? She could never forgive herself if Clint didn't make it out of this—especially after everything he'd done for her.

_Oh, stop lying to yourself,_ a mental voice berated her. _You're not doing this because you owe him. You're doing it because you _love_ him._

Her instincts screamed at her to stay where she was and wait for backup, but she just couldn't make herself listen. Instead, she tossed down the rope ladder and climbed down, watching for Loki the whole time. She didn't doubt he _would _go torture Clint just to be spiteful, but at the same time, he was tricky enough to be waiting for her outside.

She snuck out of the shed, scanning the space between her and Clint's cabin. Nothing. There was no sign of Loki. Cautiously, she inched forward, giving wide birth to the driveway and staying as hidden as possible behind the trees. She still didn't see Loki, so she risked diving behind her car and slowly opening the back door. If she was going to mount a rescue attempt, she was at least going to go in armed. She didn't want her hands to be too full, so she just grabbed her favorite handgun. It's not like she could store a weapon anywhere with her current outfit.

She crept to the front porch but decided it would be smarter to sneak in the kitchen door. Really, either way she went, she'd be exposed going for the basement door—where she'd figured out Loki was stashing Clint. Otherwise, why wouldn't he have let her go downstairs to use the kickboxing mat? Clint was down there, and she had to get to him. Her best chance would be to surprise Loki and shoot him before he could react.

She made it to the back door without seeing Loki (and she was keeping a very sharp eye out for him). She hoped he was already downstairs, because then it would be easier for her to creep inside. She eased the door open and ventured a peek—no Loki. So she slipped in, scanning the area warily. The kitchen was next to the downstairs bathroom, which was on the far end of the house, and shared a wall with the guest bedroom, which was also attached to the bathroom. Other than that, it was only separated from the rest of the downstairs by the kitchen counters. There really were no places to hide in the big room. Loki must have been in the basement already. She'd deal with him when she got down there. Even if he heard her coming, she might still be able to pop him—she was a very fast draw.

Natasha inched further into the kitchen, jumping around the only corner with her gun drawn—but Loki wasn't around it, thank goodness. She let herself breathe a sigh of relief, grateful for the momentary reprieve.

Then she heard the bathroom door open.

She whirled around, gun drawn, only for Loki to backhand her hard enough that she smacked into the bedroom wall. The force of the collision knocked her gun from her hand, and it skidded away from her towards the kitchen counter. She recovered quickly and made a dive for it, but Loki was quicker, slamming a boot onto her hand. She felt something crack and sizzling pain like an electric shot flared through her hand. Biting back the urge to scream, she tried to grab at her gun with her free hand, but Loki's other leg was in the way.

"You humans and your stupid sentimentality," he chuckled, grinning down at her malevolently. "I knew you won't leave Agent Barton to die."

"I've already called the Avengers," Natasha told him. "They'll be here any minute. You should leave while you have some chance of escaping."

But Loki just laughed. "Come now, Agent Romanov, I know you're a level-headed woman. If they were going to be here soon, you would have waited for them. The fact that you charged in alone testifies that you're not expecting them yet. And that gives us plenty of time to play."


	10. Chapter 10

Loki crouched down so that he and Natasha were almost face-to-face, picking up her handgun as he did so.

"Humans use such primitive weapons," he said, running the muzzle down her cheek. She refused to flinch. "I prefer more… sophisticated methods."

He snapped the gun in two, tossing the pieces away carelessly.

"Now," he continued, cupping her chin with a hand, "I believe some groveling is in order."

"If you think I'd ever give you that satisfaction, you're even crazier than I thought you were," Natasha snapped.

Loki quirked an elegant eyebrow. "Hmm, I see the spider still has some bite. Let me rectify that."

He grabbed her by the hair, hauling her to her feet, and slammed her up against the kitchen counter. She was pinned against the counter by his body, one of his knees between her legs so that she couldn't kick at him, and her good arm was trapped against him. She hated the pressure between her legs and the way their bodies were pressed so closely against each other. She tried to claw his eyes with her bad hand, prepared to weather the pain, but he grabbed it and wrenched it hard enough that she gasped.

"You are surprisingly tenacious," Loki told her almost admiringly as he yanked her hair back far enough that their lips were almost brushing. "I admit, it's quite… stimulating. You fill my head will all manner of exciting fantasies."

"I bet you have plenty of experience fantasizing," Natasha said scornfully, trying to distract him enough so that she could yank her good arm free. "After all, what woman on Asgard would look your way when she could go for your brother?"

Loki's smile disappeared, and the hand that had been wrapped in her curls now wrapped around her throat painfully.

"That pretty mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble someday," he hissed, lifting her off her feet. He slammed her up against the kitchen cabinet, and her legs kicked uselessly as she tried to gain some traction. "I think we'll put it to better use soon. I think there are a lot of things we'll do soon."

Natasha scratched at his fingers but it did no good. Her lungs burned from the lack of air, and her vision was starting to swim.

"Just kill me and get it over with," she managed to wheeze out. "I'm sick of your voice."

Loki laughed darkly. "Sweet Natasha, who said anything about killing you? I might kill Barton. I haven't decided yet. If I do, rest assured you'll be there to watch. But I never planned to kill you. There are so many other ways to break you, and I want you to live with those memories for a long, long time."

Natasha groped for anything to use as a weapon. Her fingers felt the cool metal of the sink and she could just brush against the handle of something she couldn't quite make out. But she couldn't reach it. She knew she didn't have much time; it was getting harder and harder to move her muscles.

"I think I'll just hold you here until you pass out," Loki continued, running his free hand up her leg and stroking her exposed abdomen. He leaned in closer, his lips against her ear. "When you're more manageable, we can take a trip to the basement and figure out the best way to finish off your lover. Maybe the last thing he'll see is me exploring that lovely body of yours. Do you think he'd appreciate that?"

Natasha stretched further, muscles screaming. But she was able to wrap her fingers around the handle. Desperately, she grabbed it, figuring out from its weight that it was a frying pan. She swung it hard and smashed it into the side of Loki's head with a tremendous _crash_. Loki hurled her down against the cabinet, where she bounced off onto the ground. She landed on her bad hand, and the pain that hit her was almost numbing, but at the same time she felt something underneath her. It was one of Clint's knives—she didn't know it was the one he'd tried to throw at Loki earlier.

"Witch," Loki growled, pouncing at her.

Without really thinking, Natasha grabbed the knife and thrust it up at him—plunging her knife straight through his left hand. It skewered the bone with a terrible _crunch_, and Loki shrieked as blood started gushing out around it. He jerked his hand away, taking the knife with it, as Natasha scrambled to her feet.

"Now we're even," she called over her shoulder as she ran for the basement. She realized she'd be weaponless and cornered if she went down the steps, but all that mattered to her was getting to Clint. So she flung open the door and launched herself down the steps.


	11. Chapter 11

Natasha slammed the door behind her and locked it, even though she knew it wouldn't hold against Loki for long. But it was better than nothing.

She flew down the steps, scanning the main room of Clint's basement for him. He wasn't anywhere she could see, but his basement was big. He was paranoid enough that he liked holing up underground, so the basement was nearly as big as the rest of the cabin. The main room was the entertainment area, and off to one side was his kickboxing and workout area. Across the room was where he kept all his weapons. And in the back was his walk-in freezer, where he kept all the deer and other animals he hunted for winter food.

Natasha headed for the weapons case first. She knew he kept all his crossbows and guns loaded, because they weren't much good in an emergency if they couldn't shoot. Surely there'd be something there she could use to keep Loki at bay. She could hear the demi god slamming against the door and shouting threats, but she blocked him out and focused on the task at hand.

Hastily scanning the rows of drawers, she tried to pull one out but found it was locked. Of course. Clint was prepared, but he wouldn't want just anyone accessing his weapons. It was the same when she tried to jerk open the glass display case where all his bows and arrows were hanging. Even when she delivered a ringing kick into the middle of the glass, it didn't budge. It must have been bullet proof. And she certainly didn't know the code for his keypad lock.

"Clint, you paranoid bastard," she muttered under her breath.

Luckily, there was a set of hunting knives hanging above the drawers, and she grabbed two—the biggest one and the smallest one. It hurt for her to use her broken hand, but the adrenaline pushed her through. By now, she'd already come up with a hasty plan: she could untie Clint (he must be subdued, she figured, or else he would have come to her aid) and they could escape out of the window in the corner of the room—Clint always liked to have emergency exits. Or maybe together, they'd be able to take Loki out for good, depending on how hurt Clint was.

"Clint?" she called out. "Where are you?"

She heard a muffled groan coming from his workout area and ran through the doorway, and she gasped when she found her partner. He was strung up spread-eagle on one of his workout machines, dangling from tied wrists and with duct tape across his mouth. His legs were tied to the bottom, but it was obvious most of the weight was on his arms. One leg was bandaged crudely, and the bandage had already turned rusty red from the blood leaking out. Natasha wasn't a medical professional, but she'd been in the field long enough to know that Clint had a nasty break. He might not be able to help her against Loki after all.

"Oh my God," she breathed, blood draining from her face. She'd seen far worse in battle, but she'd never seen Clint this bad. He was hardly recognizable under the blood and the bruises. But the horror only lasted a second before she repressed it with clinical professionalism. At least he was alive, and conscious. She could work with this.

She ripped the tape off his mouth and started working on the rope tied around his legs. She had to get that first, or else he'd fall forward and hurt his leg even worse. Loki had done a terribly good job at the knots, though—there was a lot to cut through.

"Natasha, you should get out of here," Clint urged. "Go through the window and get some help!"

"I already called Steve," she replied curtly, sawing at the rope determinedly. "The team will be here soon. And I'm not leaving without you."

"You can't take Loki on your own," Clint said, worry coloring his voice. "My leg's fractured, Tash. I'm useless… worse than useless. I'm a liability."

"Don't be stupid," she snapped, finally managing to cut through the one rope and moving on to the other one. "We've gotten through worse than this. Remember the firestorm in Colombia?"

Clint let out a pained chuckle. "You are so stubborn."

Natasha let herself smile back. "You know it."

Then she heard the basement door break open.

Clint heard it at the same time, both of them snapping their heads around towards the sound.

"Watch for me," Natasha ordered, going back to sawing as fast as she could. She might not be able to get Clint free before Loki showed up, but she would try. She wished there was a door to Clint's workout room that she could lock, instead of the open doorframe that made her feel achingly vulnerable. She heard Loki's light steps as he slowly descended into the basement, and she was surprised he wasn't going faster. Maybe he was wary of an ambush, or maybe he just wanted to draw it out. He did love to gloat. At any rate, it didn't matter. She couldn't worry about him right now.

She managed to cut through the rope around Clint's other leg and moved on to his right wrist, sawing frantically. But halfway through, a long shadow washed over her.

"Natasha…" Clint warned, but she was already spinning around to see Loki leaning against the doorframe, still holding the knife she'd stabbed him with.

"Now isn't this touching," he sneered. "What a darling pair of lovebirds the two of you make."

Natasha stepped in front of Clint protectively. "This isn't going to end well for you," she said tightly, both knives poised to strike. "The rest of the team will be here any minute. Just get out of here while you can."

Loki just laughed scornfully. "That's not very grateful after all the effort I put into trussing up Agent Barton for you. Besides, I haven't paid you back for our last scuffle." He held his wounded hand up, showing the blood that had washed over his palm and down his arm, and the mockery in his voice was replaced with fury. "By the time I'm through with you and your precious archer, you'll beg me to kill you."


	12. Chapter 12

Natasha stayed in front of Clint protectively as she computed her options. She dreaded getting into another one-on-one fight with Loki; he'd already banged her up pretty well, and her broken hand would be a big liability. But all she had to do was keep Loki at bay until the rest of the team showed up. They'd be here soon… right?

"Your threats are getting a bit repetitive," she said. "Honestly, it's a bit boring."

"Boring?" Loki repeated, almost incredulously, as he took a cautious step closer. He seemed to be a mixture of amused and frustrated. "Then allow me to… spice things up a bit."

"Bring it on."

They watched each other warily, each hesitant to make the first move. Loki struck first, lunging at her with his knife ready to strike. With her bad hand, she knocked his blade away and jabbed up with her own blade, catching him under the arm. He hissed in pain and slammed his arm across her chest, knocking her backwards. Then he hit her across the chin with a punch that lifted her off her feet and slammed her into the wall behind her. She slid to the floor, stars exploding across her vision, but bounded up again quickly, already instinctively shielding herself behind her knife.

But the attack she had braced herself for didn't come. Instead, she looked up to see Loki holding a knife to Clint's throat, and she realized with horror that she had banked on the wrong strategy. Loki didn't want to kill her right now—he wanted to get her away from Clint.

Loki noticed her horror with relish. "It seems the great Black Widow isn't so brilliant after all. You didn't consider this little maneuver, did you?"

"This is between you and me," Natasha said tightly, forcing her voice to stay hard and not reveal the emotion roiling under the surface. "Let him go. He's nothing."

"Nothing?" Loki repeated with a malicious smile. "Then you won't mind if I dispose of him."

He pushed the blade further into Clint's throat, puncturing the surface. Clint grunted in pain as blood started seeping around the blade.

"No, don't!" Natasha cried.

"I knew you had more feeling than that," Loki said smugly as he pulled back the blade. "You can't lie to the god of lies, spider. Throw down your weapons or I'll tear his throat out."

Natasha wavered, gouging the distance between her and the demi-god. He was only feet away; she could lunge forward and reach him. But she didn't know if she could do it fast enough. So with great reluctance, she let the knives go, despairing as they clattered away from her on the ground.

"Good girl," he said. "Now I think it's time I show you what happens when you defy a god."

"What do you _want_, Loki?" she asked.

"I want you the way you're supposed to be," he hissed, anger once again coloring his voice. "I want you on your knees before me, begging for mercy." When she didn't move, he shouted, "I said on your _knees_, bitch!"

She would never have taken that on her own, but she had Clint to worry about now. So she dropped to her knees.

"Oh, I like this," he said, his gaze sweeping her body hungrily. "Beg for me, little spider."

"You pathetic asshole," Clint wheezed out. "You can't even fight a woman without hiding behind another man."

"Shut up, archer," Loki snapped, pushing the knife deeper again.

Natasha glanced at Clint worriedly, shooting a look that she hoped he'd understand as _SHUT UP! _Did he _want _to get a blade through the throat?

Clint ignored her, continuing his taunt. "You can't kill me yet, or she won't do what you want. Without me, there's nothing to stop her from kicking your ass."

"I said, _shut up_," Loki growled.

And then Natasha realized what Clint was doing. If she gave in to the demi-god now, it was only going to delay the inevitable; he'd still kill Clint. But if she could lure him away, maybe she could buy enough time for the rest of the team to arrive. It was a dangerous gamble, but she'd have to try it. There was no other choice.

"Clint's right," she said scornfully, standing back up. "You're not even man enough to fight me one-on-one. No wonder your father was ashamed of you. No wonder _both _of your fathers were ashamed of you."

The temperature in the room seemed to suddenly drop twenty degrees. Loki was shaking with rage. He'd completely forgotten Clint as his murderous intentions focused on Natasha.

"I'm going to rip your heart out," he snarled, and he lunged at her.


	13. Chapter 13

_Just a head's up-this chapter gets a bit violent._

Natasha spun around and raced through the door, sprinting for Clint's wall of weapons. She'd only made it three steps before Loki tackled her from behind and the two of them crashed into the ground. She managed to flip him over, straddling his waist and hitting him with rapid fire punches that left his mouth bloody. But he was able to pull up a leg and kick her square in her midsection, knocking her backwards onto the stairs. Before she could bounce back up, he hit her across the chin with a teeth-chattering punch. He punched her a second time, a kidney punch to the side that knocked the breath out of her, before hitting her across the face again hard enough that her vision started to swim, and she feared she'd pass out. She focused hard and hit him where it hurt, slamming a knee into his groin. He crumbled to one side with a surprised yelp.

She shoved him off her, twisting to the side and trying to get another swing in, but he caught her wrist. She was able to jerk him down and flipped him over onto his back, and as he was pushing himself up she kicked him hard across the jaw, the force of the blow snapping his head back. He scrambled to his feet and she hit him with another roundhouse kick that would have knocked out any human man. But he wasn't human, and when she went for a third kick, he was caught her leg and hurled her across the room, straight into Clint's gun case. The force of his throw was great enough that the glass shattered, raining down as she bounced to the floor. Clint's crossbows bounced down around her.

By now, it was almost impossible to focus as the room spun around her. Frantically, she grabbed one of Clint's crossbows and swung it up towards the demi-god. She didn't have time to aim accurately, pulling the trigger when he was almost on top of her. An arrow shot out and struck him right through his shoulder, and he howled in pain—but he kept coming.

He slammed a boot onto her ankle and there was a terrible crunch. The pain was almost overpowering, but she managed to keep her head enough to kick out with her other leg, solidly connecting with Loki's knee. This time he did crumple to the ground, mere inches from her. She grabbed a piece of glass, ignoring how its jagged edge cut into her palm, and swung it at Loki's throat, but he caught her arm and tossed her over him onto her back. She tried to scramble to her feet, only for her bad ankle to give way and send her crashing back to the ground.

As she tried again to pull herself to her feet, using the couch for support, she was achingly aware of her vulnerabilities. Loki was between her and the weapon table, and he was already hauling himself up. She needed a new plan. She glanced around the room, trying not to panic, and then she saw the door to Clint's freezer.

It was time to try a different tactic.

She let herself fall back onto the ground with a cry of pain that was mostly real, starting to crawl backwards towards the door. She needed Loki to think she was in worse shape than she really was. It certainly wasn't hard to pretend she was in pain.

Reaching the freezer door, she pulled herself up shakily and jerked it open, a blast of icy air chilling her to the bone. She let herself sway unsurely, catching her bearings.

"It looks like you're out of places to run," Loki spat out, breathing hard, as he staggered towards her.

Without a reply, she ducked into the freezer.

She knew it was a risky move. If he wanted, he could just lock her in, and she'd freeze to death. She just prayed he'd be angry enough to want to follow her and finish her himself.

The freezer wasn't extremely large, but it was large enough to fit several shelves packed with venison inside. The shelves went up about six feet, each with five or six dividers. It was a tight fit, and difficult to quickly navigate around the storage units. Since the door opened outwards, Natasha couldn't just hide on the side. Yet it would also be pretty easy to figure out if someone was hiding behind a shelf.

But Natasha didn't plan on hiding behind a shelf. Instead, she ran to the right of the freezer, outside of Loki's line of vision, and scrambled on top of one. Her broken hand screamed from her weight, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it. She swung to the top shelf just in time before Loki swept through the door.

"You're trapped in your own web, spider," he growled. "Do you think I can't find you in here?"

He started prowling around the shelves cautiously, meticulously. Natasha prayed he wouldn't guess to check on top. If he did, there wasn't enough room under the ceiling to maneuver quickly, and he'd surely be able to catch her.

"I am going to break every bone in your body," he continued, winding around a shelf. Natasha couldn't know exactly where he was, but she heard his footsteps drawing nearer, and she held her breath. "But I'll make sure you're alive long enough to watch me use your precious archer for target practice. I'm a good shot… I'm sure I could take out his eyes."

His threats made her heart freeze, but she refused to make a sound. Finally, she heard his footsteps walking away. But she didn't move yet—she had to make sure he was as far away from her as possible.

When he spoke again, his voice was definitely farther away—she guessed he was in the far corner.

"Maybe I'll just disembowel him and strangle you with his intestines. How does that sound?"

She ignored him, cautiously climbing down the shelf without a sound. But she couldn't make a run for the door without knowing better where he was. Carefully, she peered around the shelf: nothing. Where was he?

She inched closer to the door. She wasn't ready to flat-out run yet, since she knew Loki was faster. If she could only get a few feet closer…

Then, through the gaps in the shelves, she saw him.

But worse than that, he saw her.

The two of them stared at each other for a split second before Natasha turned and ran for the door. Her ankle throbbed, but she ignored it, helped by a handy dose of adrenaline. She could hear the demi-god barreling after her, but she kept her eyes on the door. Using the last bit of her energy, she flew through it and slammed it shut behind her, slamming the lock in place. There was a thud as Loki smashed into the door.

Loki pounded on the glass, screaming curses. "Do you think this pathetic door will stop me?"

Natasha took a deep breath, steadying her frayed nerves. "It doesn't have to. It just has to detain you for a while."

As if on cue, she heard voices upstairs. Her teammates had arrived at last.

"It sounds like the gang's all here," she said, and called, "Hey guys! Down here!"

"Your band of mortals is no match for me," Loki seethed, pounding on the glass harder. "I will destroy you all!"

"You forget, we're not all mortals," she replied. "Your brother's here, too."

There was a moment of silence as Loki comprehended this. Then he muttered one word:

"Damn."


	14. Chapter 14

Steve was the first down the stairs, and Natasha was so relieved to see his face she almost burst into tears. As it was, the adrenaline had worn off by now, and her legs refused to support her any longer. Steve caught her as she started to crumble, so that she was able to brace herself against him.

"What the hell is going on?" Tony demanded over his shoulder. "Natasha, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied, even as she struggled with the sudden exhaustion overwhelming her. "Go take care of Clint. He's in his workout room."

Tony disappeared, replaced by Thor, who scanned his teammate worriedly. When he was assured she wasn't seriously injured, his look of tender concern was replaced by black fury as he pushed past Steve to stalk towards the freezer. Loki saw him coming and took a long step backwards.

"Cowardly knave!" Thor shouted, slamming a hand against the freezer and almost breaking the window. "You and I will have words, brother."

"Now, Thor," Loki started pleadingly, "let's not be hasty. Agent Romanov is fine—she said so herself. I didn't really…"

"Silence!" Thor bellowed. "This conduct brings shame to the house of Asgard, and it must be rectified."

With that, he whipped the door open, stepped instead, and slammed it behind him. While the team would usually insist on proper justice in the court of law, this time they all agreed not to hear any of the shrieks emanating from the freezer as Thor delivered Loki a thorough thrashing.

When Thor hauled his foster brother back into the main room, most of Loki was either black or blue.

"Please allow me to convey my deepest sorrow over what happened here," Thor said. "Rest assured, he will be severely punished when we return home to Asgard. But first, my brother wishes to apologize as well."

When Loki didn't add anything, Thor gave him a sharp shake. Loki glared daggers at his older brother but finally ground out, "Please forgive me for my actions, Agent Romanov. I am deeply ashamed and regret any pain I caused you."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Natasha replied, ignoring the pain as she shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "You're the one who got your ass kicked by a human—and a female, too. That's got to sting."

Loki trembled with anger but wisely chose not to reply.

"Look who I found," Tony chirped out from behind them. He and Bruce were helping Clint walk out, each supporting him on one side. "A bit worse for wear, but still standing—sorta. He's not going to win any beauty pageants any time soon, though."

"Yeah, well, you should see the other guy," Clint replied, then noticed Loki. "Oh… you have. Geez, Natasha!"

"Some of that was Thor," she said with a smile. "But just a little."

"As much as I regret being the one to end any merciless teasing aimed at a certain sullen frost giant," Tony broke in, "but we really do have to get you kids to a hospital. I mean, bones are supposed to be on the inside, Arrow Man."

"I hope are not disappointed if I don't accompany you," Thor said, "but I prefer to return my brother to Asgard as soon as possible."

Both Natasha and Clint ended up needed to get carried upstairs thanks to their injuries. Steve gently carried Natasha marriage-style up the steps, but Clint refused to be carried in such a way by Tony and was instead slung over his shoulder.

When they reached the top, Thor called down a portal from Heimdal and shot off into the sky, still firmly holding his petulant brother by the arm. Natasha and Clint were loaded into the back of Steve's jeep, where they would have more room to stretch out. It would quicker to drive than to wait for an ambulance. Besides, none of their injuries were life-threatening—just really painful. But in their line of work, they were used to that.

As they started down the road that would lead back into the city, Steve and Bruce were already arguing over the best hospital to visit, which somehow evolved into the merits of nanoscience vs. neuroscience. They were so happily absorbed in their scientific debate that they paid no attention to their precious patients.

Clint put his arm on Natasha's leg. "I saw how royally you destroyed Loki, but are you all right? Really?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm more pissed off than anything. I hope Thor thinks up something really good for a punishment. You might not walk for a while, though."

"Eh, I've taken worse," Clint answered. "Remember Cambodia?"

Natasha let out a pained laugh. "Yeah. God, we get into so much trouble when we're together."

"You know you love it," he said with a cheeky grin. "Besides, you've got to admit we make a pretty good team." He paused before pushing on, "I wouldn't mind making it a more regular occurrence."

Natasha glanced at him, scanning his eyes for his meaning. "Are you sure that's not the post battle shock talking?"

"Natasha, when I was strung up in that weight room and waiting to die, the only thing that really panicked me was the thought that I'd wasted my opportunity with you," Clint said, earnestness coloring his voice. "We'd danced so long around our feelings that I was sure I'd blown my one chance at love with the only woman I've really cared about. And I'm not going to make that mistake again."

"There's a reason spies don't have relationships," Natasha replied, a little more sharply than she intended. "Loki came after you to get to me. You almost died because I cared about you. And I have a lot more enemies than just a pissed off demi-god, Clint. I can't put you at risk."

"I don't think you get to make that choice," Clint said. "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"That's sweet, but do you really think a relationship like this would last? You'd be gone, or I'd be gone, or we'd both be gone. And no matter how much we'd promise to keep things strong, there'd be the trust issues, or and the empty nights, and the constant worrying, and—"

"Natasha," Clint said, taking her face in his hands gently, "just shut up and kiss me."

And for some reason she didn't quite understand, she did.

Clint's lips felt so good against hers, and as she let herself melt into his embrace, she admitted that they just felt right together. This was where she wanted to be. Of course there would be problems. Every relationship has rough spots, even without international assassination plots and galactic space battles. But they'd face it as a team. Together.

Their kiss was broken by Tony's impressed whistle. He had finally noticed their activity in his rear view mirror. "Now THAT'S the way to celebrate a victory. I think we should do it after every fight. I call dibs next time."

"Sorry, Stark, you're not my type," Clint deadpanned.

"Natasha, I'm hurt," Tony said with falsely wounded pride. "I thought you had higher standards than this pretty boy archer."

Natasha only laughed. "I wouldn't trade him for the world."

-The End-


	15. Writer's note

p class="MsoNormal"Hi all! Sorry that this isn't a chapter. I just wanted to thank you all for your great reviews—they really kept me inspired to keep writing! I see some people have asked about whether the story will continue, and I admit I'd be interested in seeing what could happen in the future if Loki somehow found a way to show up again in Natasha and Clint's lives. Right now, I'm working on a story where he tries to work mischief with Pepper and Tony, but if you all tell me you want a sequel to Frozen Web, I'll see what I can do! Ideas welcome ;) Also, if you liked this, check out the two stories my sister and I wrote about Loki paying Jane a visit, starting with "Fallen Star." Thanks again for all the support! xxoo/p 


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